Reunited
by Seredine
Summary: One Shot. It has been five years since the Blight was ended by the Grey Wardens. Delia Aeducan returns to Denerim for the first time since she left that night to be present at the King's presentation of his future bride.


Rated M for the Swear word in it - There's only one, but it's a strong one and I want to be safe.

Originally this started out as a Song Fic (I've never written one before and it sounded interesting) and was being based around the Song 'Walking on Broken Glass' by Annie Lennox. So there are some of the lines from the song worked into the story at first. Then it kinda got away from me and turned into something a little longer than it was supposed to be. Ah well, practice makes perfect.

I picked this song out as I think it's a perfect song for someone to express how they feel after being dumped or betrayed for someone else. Oh and the video totally inspired the setting too. I can see all the nobles looking at my poor dwarf as a scarlet lady! lol Check out the video here: Youtube .com/watch?v=CIgSSAhdq3Y

* * *

_You were the sweetest thing_, I remember thinking sadly as he met my eyes before dipping to kiss my hand. His eyes once filled with love and laughter were now cold and distant, changed by the world of politics – the world I had tried in vain to keep him from. He stood and I turned to his soon to be bride and curtseyed low. Today the presentations, tomorrow the wedding and I thanked the Stone that I would be leaving before the Ceremony.

'It is good to see you again, Delia, Zevran,' he smiled and acknowledged the elf at my side, 'it has been too long.' The smile hadn't met is eyes and I shuddered. His soon to be queen shifted uncomfortably – she knew, but then they all did, of the past of the King and I, his Dwarven lover.

_Don't worry_, I had thought looking at the waif, _he abandoned me – he's all yours_. I cursed Anora again, for the millionth time, for forcing my hand and making Alistair king. _It wasn't supposed to be this way_, my mind cried out as Zevran took my arm, leading me away and allowing the line of guests behind us to be presented to the King's betrothed.

'Are you okay, my dear,' Zevran murmured into my ear. His soft and reassuring tone, his tongue caressing each syllable made me sigh – a long, lonely sigh. Since the day we met, when he had tried to kill me, he hadn't left my side. Zevran had been good to me, followed me without question and tried to give me back what Alistair had taken.

'The sun's still shining in that big blue sky you love so much, but it doesn't mean anything to me… and not because I'm of the Dwarva.' I peered at him out of the corner of my eye, waiting for his usual tart reply, but none came. His lips were pursed deep in thought. 'Everyday, it's just-'

'I have tried to pick up the pieces, my lady, but I can no longer.' He interrupted me. 'It is time that you settled this with Him.' He moved his head in the direction of Alistair who had greeted the last guest and was now making his way together with his… _thing_ – I sneered – into the middle of the hall. The formalities now over, partying could begin.

I shook my head, lips clamped shut. There was no way, never in a month of Sundays was I going to speak to him about _that_ day.

'If you'd like, I could give that scrawny little neck a new red necklace.' He wiggled his eyebrows, and a small smile tugged at my lips. Oh it would have been beautiful to see, the assassin within me thought, but, as much as he had hurt me, I couldn't do that to _Him_.

From what I remember of the next part of the night, we kept mostly to ourselves, drinking an amount of Alcohol that would've made Oghren proud. Zevran entertained me by listing all the ways he could kill the would-be queen without anyone ever knowing it was him. His words were half serious, half jest. All I had to do was say the words and the King would never gain the chance to be a husband – not tomorrow at any rate.

But we kept to jesting, and I even joined in, encouraging his stories, giving him prompts, and his descriptions made me laugh, real laughter, laughter he hadn't heard in the five years since we'd left Denerim for Aramanthine. Since that day.

I remember drawing the daggers I had hidden under my skirts, my head blurry from the drink, 'like this!' I squealed, lunging forward at an invisible target and toppling over. Zevran's laugh tinkled in the air as he tried to stand me upright again. Nobles shook their heads as guards descended upon us.

It had been a long time since I had drank, but Zevran quickly sobered up – I'm not even sure he had drunk at all. 'I apologise, sers, too much celebrating the wonderful, joyous, _arrangement_ of today.' His tongue wrapped around the word, ensuring the nobles nearby got his meaning. The king wasn't in love, he never would be, they might have arranged for his marriage but it was a sham and everyone knew it.

I saw the knights look around, and for the briefest moment I thought, _Fuck it, let's kill them all,_ before my eyes landed on His. Pools of liquid amber met my dark murky depths, and suddenly my Dwarva stomach kicked in; the alcohol gone, my head clear.

'It's okay, men,' he waved them way, 'nothing wrong with a little celebrating.' I glared at him, my fingers still twitching on my blades.

Zevran bowed graciously, 'Ah, it is good that the King finally comes to greet his old friends in arms.' He stood straight, slipping his arm around me. I knew what he was doing, and it had worked. Alistair looked down to my waist, his eyes watching as Zevran's fingers caressed my hip. 'After all we had all meant to one another, we were beginning to think that we were not welcome here, and it hurt – a little.' Alistair's eyes snapped back to the elf's, a warning hidden within, he knew exactly what Zevran was saying.

Zevran looked down at me, smiling naughtily. _Please_, I remember begging him with my eyes, _please do not leave my side_. He kissed my nose lightly before stepping away from me, 'I see our glasses empty, I shall go and get you another,' he bowed slightly to me and then turned and walked away.

'So,' I fidgeted with the ties on my dress, a slip of a thing from Orlais that Zevran had bought for me. I had wanted to come in my ceremonial armour, but the damned man insisted he had purchased it just for this moment.

'You look… well,' Alistair tried as I slipped my blades back under my skirts, quickly covering my legs again.

'Thank you.' I looked around the room and saw the scrap of woman he was to marry starring at me, her brows drawn, fists clenched, and cheeks red with fury. Eammon and Teagan were talking to her, offering soothing words to those misshapen ears. Without thinking an image of Sandal popped into my head and I nearly laughed. Then I noticed it.

He was stood next to her, hidden by the shadows he called around him. If I hadn't been so used to looking out for him when we trained, if I myself hadn't been taught in the ways of the assassin I would never have noticed it.

Alistair turned to look at where I was looking and I panicked, knowing he'd see Zevran's form whispering words to his soon to be bride. 'Why did you do it?'

It was the first thing that came from my lips. The question I had been so scared to ask, but had always wanted to. I surprised myself with asking it, but it seemed he had been waiting for it, perhaps for a long time. His eyes had softened, and they were the same sweet, yet tired, eyes I remembered in my dreams.

'Because I loved you.' I looked at him sharply, my jaw set. I remember thinking that I should slit his throat for the lie. Five years with Zevran as my constant companion had given me a quick desire to kill those who posed a threat to me, physically or emotionally. 'I couldn't bare the idea that you might… die. Not when I had the chance to do something, even if it was only a chance, I had to take it.'

He reached out to stroke my cheek. 'So you slept with her, because you loved me and didn't want me to die.' He dropped his hand back to his side and sighed. 'I was prepared to die Alistair. I was prepared to do my duty as you were forced to do yours.'

'Exactly,' he bit out. 'I was forced to be King, and you were possibly being forced into death. I couldn't stop them making me King, but at least I could do something to stop the madness of your unneeded death.'

'Unneeded? Unneeded?' I laughed, it was cold and hollow. 'Did you not hear Riordan's words that night? It was very much needed if you hadn't… dallied with the apostate.' His cheeks flamed red, but I was not done. Words I had wanted to say long ago spilled from my lips. The guests were starting to look now, but we didn't notice. We both stared at each other, eyes locked, our cheeks tinged with rage - and desire. For as much as I hated him, for what he had done to me on our last night, I had never stopped loving him, and that made me hate him even more.

'You said you never wanted to lay with another woman, Alistair, that's why I never brought the idea to you from _her_. I knew what that meant; it was my choice, my right!'

'And it was my choice, my right as the man you loved and who loved you to do anything within my power to stop your death!'

'I knew that I was dying for you, not for Ferelden, not for my people who die every day to stop the Darkspawn spilling onto the lands, for you. I wanted to give you one thing that you desired, one thing that was in my power – I waited for you that night! I was waiting for you to come to _me_ when you had already gone to _her_!' I remember my voice breaking, my throat closing over, trying to swallow the tears that I knew were shining in my eyes. 'You went to her, whilst I waited…' I shook my head, 'then when I came looking for you, the maid told me… where you were…'

'I didn't know… that's how…' his voice was gruff, heavy with emotion. Without thinking – because if we had been thinking, if we hadn't been so focused on the past, we would have remembered where we were, who was with us, who was watching our every move – he grabbed hold of my arms and pulled me to him, crushing his lips against mine. It was angry, it was bitter, it was… sweet – he still tasted so sweet. The anger subsided and gave way to passion, and I knew that as much as I hated what he had done he still loved me, and I loved him.

A scream, a raw cry of rage filled the room, and all eyes, even ours, turned to face the would-be queen. She stormed over to us, her eyes pinning me down daring me to move. I noticed the small knife in her hand backed away from Alistair and sent him a look – _stop her, or I won't be held responsible_.

He held out his arm across her path not expecting her to attack him, but she sunk the blade deep into his muscle, pulling it out and wiping it clean with her other hand. I reached for my own small daggers and sliced my skirts open to free my legs, ready to fight, as the party erupted; guards grabbed her and pulled her away from their King, future wife or no. Eammon and Teagan ran to Alistair and I saw Zevran moving to the back of the room – away from any blame. I smiled at him. I knew what he'd done. How he'd coaxed her, goaded her, placed images in her head; he had always enjoyed that trick. He had forced her to make a move and I knew what mine was meant to be. I looked up at the five guards who were descending on me… _five, that's all?_ I remember thinking – _Don't they know who I am?_

'Stop!' Alistair cried out as two more guards headed my way. They froze in place and turned to their King who was on the floor, holding his injured arm. A young mage was beckoned forward and she began casting spells to heal his wound.

'The King has been attacked,' my voice sounded strange to my ears. It was lighter, softer than it had been in years. 'And I demand that the price be paid now.'

'Delia,' Eammon's voice was filled with warning, but I shook my head and continued to speak.

'I challenge you, to a duel, to the death.'

*

She had been just a girl and I gave her chance after chance to sink the blade, but she didn't know how, she wasn't trained. She had been raised to be a wife and mother, not a fighter, and it made me hate her more. She wasn't worthy of him, he needed someone to ignite him not dampen him. I spat at her as she lunged forward once more, hesitantly, and I danced around her, grabbing her hair and pulling her into my small body. My blade wrapped around her perfect swan like neck.

'I'm sorry,' I whispered into her ear, 'It's my fault – I'm supposed to be dead,' as I sunk my other blade under her rib cage, catching her heart, giving her a quick, near-instant, death. She slunk to the floor, and I dropped my blades beside her. Before anyone could grab me, I wrapped myself in the shadows and disappeared.

*

My mind had been a whirlwind of thoughts that had lead up to this point, but the moment I saw him, all guilt, all hatred, all doubt was wiped away.

It hadn't been an easy journey to Orlais for him. Zevran had helped, of course, sneaking him out of the palace, getting him, relatively unseen, across Ferelden and into the Frostback Mountains. The Dwarva had helped them then, on my word as Paragon, hidden them from the patrols that kept looking the King, until finally he was here, in my arms.

His eyes met mine, they were the sweetest things I had ever seen.

* * *

I'm not the best prose writer in the world - far from it! I'm more at home with script writing, so any con-crit would be most welcome, but no flames please :)


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